Fairy Tale Ending
by Tala Mitena
Summary: It was a fairy tale romance. But not all fairy tales have happy endings. RS
1. Part One: Once Upon A Time

**Author's Note: **This was going to be a one-shot, but I'm not even half way done with it and it's about 8 pages long, not including the author's note and disclaimer. So, I'm going to make it an arc. Which means that when you get to the end and see how mean it is, you're going to have to wait for an update! Because, yes, I am that evil! Anyway, I hope you enjoy this!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Kingdom Hearts. Not in the least. I do however own a Chocobo plushie. His name is Magnificent the Marvin the Chocobo. He says hello!

Part One:_ Once Upon A Time_

There comes a time in all long-lasting, romantic relationships when everything becomes habitual. What you talk about, what you don't talk about, what types of movies you watch together, everything. At one point you stop thinking about it all and everything just happens. Most of the time it's okay, nothing to worry about, no big deal. It's when saying "I love you" becomes habit that you need to worry. When those three words just slip out because the speaker is so used to saying them that it just happens, it's usually a sign that those words have begun to lose actual meaning.

Sora and I have been together forever, since the day we met. We were barely out of diapers then. But it was obvious to both of us that we were different from the other friends. Our friendship was something stronger than theirs, something a little more like love. Something which we later called love, when we were finally old enough to understand that that's exactly what it was.

I guess you could say it was one of those fairy-tale romance things. Love at first sight, happily ever after, the works. But not all fairy tales had happy endings, and that's something I'm constantly being reminded of, something that haunts me, causes me to lock myself in my room with only the light of the TV screen whenever Sora isn't home.

It used to be that we did everything together. It used to be that we didn't need to speak when we were together. Words were useless when we were spending the day lying about the house, just content to be together. But now those silent days are filled with anxiety. Now, Sora avoids my gaze, and answers me with one-syllable words or nods of the head. Nothing more than is needed. But it used to be that he'd ramble on for what seemed hours and I'd laugh to myself and attempt to discern some meaning from his rushed and excited words. But he hasn't done that in a long time. He hasn't rambled in months, and I haven't smiled in just about that long.

It used to be that late at night he would creep into my room and start a pillow fight, which would swiftly become a tumble between the sheets. It used to be that his room was more like a formality, that every morning I would wake up cold and shivering as he hogged the covers, and I would press close to him and the covers wouldn't matter anymore, because he'd be warmth enough for me. I haven't woken up next to him since he stopped rambling and I stopped smiling.

Sora used to be so full of life, so vibrant. Every day was a new adventure. He'd start something new and I'd go along with it, eager to please him and ready to do anything that would keep him in my arms. But now. . .

Well, now, everything just happens. And it scares the hell out of me. I need him. I always have. I always will.

Sora's eyeing me. Not in any particular way, just watching. He does that. He watches me think. Trying to figure out what I'm thinking about has been a past-time of his for a while now. He's never succeeded.

"Game over." I whisper, staring at him. He blushes and lowers his head to concentrate on the cereal he's eating. He always does that. No matter how many times I tell him that I think it's adorable when he watches me, and no matter how many times I tell him that it's nothing new, it will always embarrass him when he gets caught. And once he recovers from that small embarrassment he'll say something about inserting coins. That's just how it is. I think. He watches. Game over. Insert coins. That's what always happens.

There's that word again. 'Happens.' I hate that word.

"Please insert fifty cents to continue." Sora mumbles, grinning up at me. He knows I was expecting the comment, he knows it's what always. . .happens. Yet, somehow, he still finds it clever.

Sora's done eating now. After a soft, content sigh he'll rush into the hall, leaving the bowl on the table. Remembering that I hate it when he does that he'll return in 3. . .

2. . .

1.

"Heh, sorry." Sora chuckles as he skids into the kitchen. He grabs the bowl and moves to place it in the sink. When he's done with that he'll walk over and give me a quick kiss goodbye before hurrying to class.

The clink of ceramic against metal sounds from his direction. He turns around and I gaze expectantly at him. And then. . .

He's gone.

Well, that was. . .

Unexpected.

Part of me is glad for the change. But 99.99 of me is cold with fear. This change is a confirmation. This is it. The beginning of the end. Soon, Sora's confessions of love will be hollow, and soon after that they will cease. And then he'll tell me that he doesn't love me anymore. That he doesn't need me. That it's over.

Fuck.

I glance at the clock. It's just after ten, and if memory serves me, it's a Thursday. Which means I don't have any classes today. I don't have _anything_ to do today, nothing to distract me and keep my mind from churning with thoughts of Sora, and the memory of how, for the first time in the three years we've been living together, I didn't feel his lips pressed against my own before he left.

The phone rings, startling me out of my fretful daydreams, and I jump up to answer it. Maybe it's Sora. Maybe he's calling because the missed kiss is bothering him too. Maybe he'll tell me he loves me, and maybe those words will have meaning.

"Sora?" I ask, unable to conceal the desperation in my voice, as I pick up the phone.

"So you're _still_ with him?" the voice at the other end asks with an exasperated sigh. It isn't Sora. It's my father.

"Yes." I growl. "What do you want?"

"_I_ don't want anything. Your step-mother wants to see you."

This comes as even more of a shock than my father's call. Five years ago he and my step-mother, Anya, walked in on Sora and I when things were getting a little frisky. When that happened, my father insisted it was just a phase, that I'd get over it soon. He still does. But Anya? She flipped out. She hasn't spoken to me since. Not a single word. To tell the truth, I prefer it that way. I never liked her much anyway.

"Oh?" I drawl. "I thought she disapproved of my sinful lifestyle and refused to associate with heathens such as myself."

"It's not a lifestyle," my father so kindly points out, "it's a phase."

"It isn't a phase." I'm tempted to call him 'Dad' just because I know it will annoy him, but I can't bring myself to. Not after 'It's just a phase' is all he's been able to say to me for the past five years. Besides, what I'm about to say will piss him off enough anyway. "I love him."

My father is silent, and in this silence I mentally cringe at the note of sorrow that sounded with those words.

"Just stop by around lunchtime." He says angrily before hanging up.

Well, this day just keeps getting better and better now doesn't it? Sora left without a goody-bye kiss and now my wretched step-mother wants to talk to me for the first time in half a decade. That conversation promises to be enjoyable.

* * *

It's just before noon as I walk into my father's house. The place is silent, and when I arrived, I noticed that my father's car was missing. It doesn't surprise me. I expected him to come up with some excuse not to be there when I came.

"Riku?" Anya calls from the kitchen. I don't bother answering, instead I just walk down the hall to the room she's in. The first thing I see there is a crucifix hanging on the wall above the breakfast table. Anya watches me step into the kitchen as if expecting me to crumble into dust upon entering a room sanctified by the crucifix's presence.

"Please, sit down." She says calmly. That's all that woman ever is. Calm. Calm face, serene maple eyes, soft words, shoulder length, mousy brown hair that falls calmly and neatly in to place. In short, she's bland. Nothing compared to my real mother. She was beautiful, unique, and vibrant. In a way, Sora reminds me of her. That's part of why I'm so afraid right now. I don't want to lose him like I lost her. I don't want to lose my light again and be cast into cold darkness to grope blindly for something warm to hold on to.

And so I find myself resenting Anya even more. Because I can't help but compare her to my mother, and I can't help but think of the times when Sora will say something in a certain tone and it will remind me of her, and how very, very scared I am because he hasn't said something like that since he stopped rambling. Since I stopped smiling.

And so I narrow my eyes at her as I sit in the chair closest to the crucifix, just to prove that it's not effecting me, that I won't turn into a puff of smoke and return to the depths of hell from whence I came.

But she's still calm. "Please don't look at me like that, Riku," she says as she takes the seat across from me. The room is silent as she looks at me with those calm eyes, her gaze occasionally flickering heavenward. When it returns to me I raise an eyebrow questioningly, and she speaks again.

"I know it's been a while since we've talked."

"Five years." I inform her.

"Yes, five years." Her words are wispy, as if she is trying to get rid of them before they can bring forth any memories. She clears her throat softly before continuing. "I spoke to Father Lombard yesterday, about your . . .decisions." The last word is spoken delicately.

"Oh?"

"Yes. He brought to light something I should have noticed years ago, dear."

I glare at her and scowl. She has no right to call me 'dear'. She dismisses it easily, acting as if it never happened.

"Riku, I should have been more tolerant of your decisions. My reaction was un-necessary. You are obviously confused. You need someone to guide you back to the path of Christ, Riku!" Her eyes are sparkling now, dancing with passion and hope. It's the first time I've seen her express any emotion, and it's disarming.

"You've gone astray and you're lost and confused," she continues, "and you don't need people scorning you and hating you. You need someone to show you the way. You need a guiding light, and I am ready to help you find God!" She jumps up and crosses over to a drawer beside the dishwasher. When she returns she presses a bible into my hands, with a small silk pouch, which I assume contains rosary beads. "Let me help you, Riku. I will be your shepherd."

I narrow my eyes at her, unsure of what to make of this sudden display of such fervent determination after nearly fifteen years of her rag-doll persona.

And what's this about me being lost? Well, yes, it's true. I'm lost, I'm confused. But not in the way she thinks I am. I need a guiding light?

"I already have a guiding light." I say coldly, fixing her with a hard stare and placing the bible and rosary on the table. It's not a lie, I do have a guiding light. It's just. . .fading. Fading like the small printed letters of the volumes of fairy tales our love had once mimicked. But she doesn't need to know that.

"That's wonderful!" she cries excitedly. "I was so hoping I could help you, to atone for my neglect, but if you already have someone to help you then you're already well on your way to salvation!"

I shake my head at her. She just doesn't get it.

"I don't need salvation. I just need. . ." I trail off. I refuse to talk about this, especially not with her. In the silence that my words have left behind I rise to leave, but Anya places a hand on my shoulder.

"You need Sora." She says softly, reluctantly. "Perhaps you do, Riku. I am not the one to judge this. But your views on _why_ you need him will lead you to a place far from the embrace of Christ."

I scoff and shrug her hand away, but find I am unable to move just now.

"Invite him to dinner next week." Anya whispers.

"What?" I cry, whirling around to face her.

"It's been too long since I have seen him. Sora is a good boy, he is just mislead, as are you. But I am confident that the two of you will return to the herd one day, and until then I wish to encourage you, help you find your way."

I feel my expression soften. Anya is so different from what I remember. She's shown me a passion I never thought she could harbor. She's spoken to me for the first time in five years. Though her reasons for speaking to me again are not what I'd hoped they would be, she's still making an effort, and her intentions are nothing but kind. But I won't invite Sora to come to dinner next week, because. . .

"He won't come." I whisper as I turn to walk out of the house, leaving my step-mother behind, and I'm sure bewildered.

* * *

When I return home, Sora is there. I can't tell if I am relieved or anxious. I'd been thinking about him all day, and so it's good to see him finally, but I don't want to sit with him in a silence that wouldn't have been awkward a year ago, but was now so uncomfortable it made me want to bash my skull in.

I sit next to him anyway, close enough so that anyone looking would know we were together, but not as close as I would once sit. He looks up as the cushions sink under my weight. His sapphire eyes meet mine briefly before they flit away. Some part of me is glad he didn't keep hold of my gaze, because that way I cannot find what fear may be hiding behind his oceanic eyes. But the other part of me wants to search, wants to know if he still loves me, _needs_ to know if he still loves me.

And that part of me is much stronger and more determined than the scared child cowering inside of me, afraid of the darkness he dwells in as he hopes for the light and clutches a tear-stained book filled with silly things people like to call fairy tales, which is really another word for lies.

"Where were you?" Sora asks softly, the almost inaudible words tearing through the delicate web of anxiety Silence has trapped me in. His voice is void of emotion, which is so very unusual, even for the quiet, aloof Sora of the past month or so - the Sora that my Sora turned into after he stopped rambling. After I stopped smiling.

"I was at my father's. Anya wanted to talk to me." I answer equally as softly. I haven't been this close to Sora in over a week. It hurts being this close to him and not holding him. It hurts being close to him and knowing that if I were to hold him he would probably push me away.

"Oh." He replies.

That's it? 'Oh?' My step-mother doesn't talk to me for five years after she catches Sora and I in the middle of a rather passionate round between the sheets and then when she finally speaks to me again all he has to say is 'oh'? I was expecting something much different. Something more surprised, something that might lead into a conversation.

God, when was the last time Sora and I had a conversation, a real conversation? It was after Sora stopped rambling, but before I stopped smiling.

"Yeah." I say, unable to think of any other way to respond to him, as I lean back onto the couch. Sora has the TV on some show I don't recognize, and his sapphire eyes are not fixed on it. They're shining in that way they do when he's thinking about something important, something he's been thinking about for a while. I idly wonder what it is he's thinking about, and am almost tempted to laugh at myself. Wondering what someone's thinking is Sora's job. But I won't laugh, because this is just another sign that things are going downhill. It used to be I could always tell what was on his mind.

Sora sighs and flops down, now lying on the couch, legs curled carefully, so as not to make contact with me, and face buried in a throw pillow.

He turned away from me. This action wasn't uncommon, the sigh and the flop down onto the couch, but it used to be that he would fall towards me and bury his face in my thigh, wrapping his arms about my waist and cooing words I haven't heard in a long time.

"Sora." I say, not sure if I'm calling out to him, or merely saying his name because I haven't said it aloud in about a week.

"Hmmm?" he hums, rolling on to his back to stare at the ceiling. His eyes land briefly on me, and I frown as they dart away. I sigh and turn to him, that part of me that had longed to search his eyes earlier winning me over, egging me on. I need to know, and I need to know now.

I lean forward and wrap my hands around Sora's hips and pull him into a sitting position. His brows knit together in a puzzled expression as he searches my eyes, before realizing that I am beginning to search his own and he lowers his head, spiky bangs falling in his face to hide his eyes from my own.

"Sora." I say again, this time whispered carefully, as though using his name were a sin.

He is quiet. And I don't like it. It used to be that when I called his name he would answer with my own, speaking brightly and drawing out the last syllable as if he were afraid to end it. It used to be that we would sit for long moments, just speaking each other's names before we laughed softly and fell together. It used to be that we would come in contact with each other at all times, that my hands would fit perfectly against his smooth, tan skin. But now it felt awkward, as though someone had forced two unfitting puzzle pieces together. It had felt like that the last time I'd touched him as well, weeks ago, some time after he'd stopped rambling and I'd stopped smiling.

In this silence, which is even more uncomfortable than the silence that had previously ensnared me in my own, miserable thoughts, I can find only one thing I want to do, only one thing I can do.

I lean forward until my face is a mere inch away from Sora's and hesitate, my eyes tracing the outline of Sora's soft pout, my breath ghosting over his cheeks.

"No." he whispers, and the word is strangled.

I can swear I've stopped breathing. I can swear that the blood is pumping through my veins so violently that they will soon burst and I will shower the world with it, drowning it in the crimson sorrow that has been consuming me since the last time Sora rambled.

I pull away from him slowly, breathing finally returning, but in uneven, frightened intervals. He slides slowly to the end of the couch, moving as far away from me as possible.

I attempt to regulate my breathing, but I fail. I try to keep it from being so jagged, so loud, but I fail. I try to stop my heart from thundering in my ears like the retreating, pounding hooves of shying horses, but I fail. I try to ignore the fact that Sora has denied me for the first time in. . .for the first time ever, but I fail. And I try to ignore the burning sting at the back of my eyes that threatens to explode into hot, searing, salty tears, but I fail.

As my mouth forms the words I've been afraid to speak for so long I refuse to look at the boy who was once vibrant and who used to ramble, the boy who used to make me smile, the boy who had been the one I loved, and had somehow turned into the one I fear most of all.

"Sora, do you still love me?"


	2. Part Two: Big Bad Wolf

**Author's Note:** So here it is, the long awaited Part Twoof Fairytale Ending. This ending might be just as evil as the last – well, not quite, but close. Enjoy! Oh – P.S: This part is in Sora's point of view.

P.S.S: The link to the extended, slightly more. . .adult. . .version of this can be found in my profile.

**Disclaimer:** Again, I do not own Kingdom Hearts.

Part Two: _Big Bad Wolf_

When Riku asked me if I still loved him, I stopped breathing, and I'm pretty sure my heart skipped several thousand beats. I froze. We're talking absolute zero. As he sat there waiting for my answer I felt awful for hesitating like I did, but I couldn't help it. For a good while I couldn't bring myself to say anything, and it was probably the worst few minutes of both of our lives. I was silent, and Riku. . .

Well, for the first time in almost sixteen years, Riku was crying. He'll never admit to anyone, but I know he was, and it was because of me. My silence was making him cry. But it wasn't _really_ my fault. The question had been so unexpected, and so it took me a while to voice my answer.

I fall backwards onto the soft grass, which is damp from the rain that was falling when I walked here. After I'd answered Riku's question, I'd decided it would be nice to go somewhere else and be alone for a bit to think, or reflect, or. . .I'm not really sure why I'm here. I do, however, know that I never intended to end up at the playground where Riku and I first met, during my first year of preschool – where we grew up together before we were off to high school to finally realize that no, it wasn't normal for male friends to snuggle up to each other when they sat together, that it wasn't just because our friendship was so strong that we did things 'normal' friends would never dream of doing, that we loved each other.

I still can't believe that Riku asked me if I still love him. I know I was being distant and unaffectionate, but I still hadn't expected the question. Riku always trusted and believed in me so blindly. Where I was concerned, there was never any doubt in his mind that what I said was the truth, that I was good and pure and kind and that my affections were true as well as my words. I never expected him to do anything else. In the last few weeks he'd showed no sign of doubting my affections. Not until he actually came out and asked me.

"_Sora, do you still love me?"_

Even now I can't stop thinking about that question, or how I answered it. After long minutes of silence, I'd finally answered, looking away just in case he turned towards me with tear-filled eyes. I'd seen him cry only once before, when his mother died, and I never want to see it again. Riku is a tall, proud, smirking, beautiful being, but despite all this he is so very fragile, and when he breaks it's frightening, but fascinating, like when sunlight gets trapped in shards of glass, dancing enticingly amongst the deadly remnants of whatever had been pushed over the edge to shatter and die.

I turn onto my side, letting out a long sigh, disturbing the blades of grass near me. My fists clench and I screw my eyes shut, fighting back tears. I hate that I made him cry, and I hate that I can't stop thinking about those awful minutes before I answered his question.

I hate the way his hands felt so awkward and cold against my skin. I hate how I wasn't able to look him in the eye. I hate the strangled sound of his voice as he asked the question I took too long to answer. I hate the soft, stifled sobs Riku tried to hide from me. I hate the way I answered him

"I don't know." I'd said, refusing to watch as he stood and walked away.

But that's all I could have said. I am completely incapable of lying to my Riku, who really isn't mine anymore. I couldn't lie and say 'yes', and even 'no' would have been a lie. I really don't know if I love him anymore.

'I don't know,' in a way, is worse than 'no.' Riku deserves some sort of finality, but I can't give that to him.

There's a noise in the woods to my left, but I don't bother to look. It's most likely some teenagers who were off smoking pot – there's a tree house in the woods here. Riku and I built it one weekend, long ago. Going into the woods was always such an adventure back in elementary school, and we built the house as a sort of safe haven from the monsters we once imagined to be lurking behind the trees.

Nowadays it's a drug den and a sex lair.

Footsteps squish softly in the muddy field, and, oddly enough, it's only one pair, and they're heading my way. I listen to the soft 'sploosh' of their approach until they stop and I can feel eyes being dragged over my frame.

And again I freeze, knowing for a fact that I can't turn and look at the big bad wolf that has stalked out of the memory enchanted woods. Besides, I don't need to. I know that gaze that passes over me. I shiver under its bright eyes every time it rakes over my body, burning my flesh in a way I used to find exciting and alluring, in a way that now makes me hold my breath out of nervousness.

For a long moment I wait for the wolf to pad away and leave me be, pray for a knight in shining armor to whisk me away to safety. But that won't happen – my wolf and my knight are one in the same, and I can't tell which one to believe, can't tell if I'll end up in the belly of the beast or the arms of a hero.

Finally, I turn to see whether he has left, for his eyes have abandoned me, but instead I find that he has merely turned away from me. His head hangs, rumpled silver hair falling gracefully across his shoulders. I am tempted to call out to him, half wishing that he will then run over and hold me, but I will not, because part of me knows that I only wish this for Riku's sake, and not my own. I don't know whether or not I still love him, but I do know that I still care for him as a friend, at the very least, and I still want him to be happy.

Riku will only be happy with me, but I cannot lie to him. If I run to him and bury my hands in his hair and tell him we'll live happily ever after, it will be a lie. I will not lie to him, not ever. I think I owe him at least that much – Riku has always been there for me.

Always. . .I think that 'always' is the problem. It has always been me and him. It doesn't work like that, you don't find your soul-mate in preschool. Stuff like that only happens in fairy tales, and fairy tales are barely more than lies.

I try to turn away from Riku again, but he turns first, looking as though he's trying to decide something in the split second before his expression is wiped away and replaced by that mask he likes to think he's hiding behind. He doesn't know, but it doesn't work for me, his eyes give it all away. Fairy-tale eyes, I used to call them – bright and beautiful and bewitching.

I can't look away. I'm trying so hard to do so, but I just can't and I begin to tremble. His eyes are holding mine, and all I can think about is that wolves can sense fear.

"I didn't expect to find you here." He says softly, squelching towards me with his fairy-tale gaze.

_My, what beautiful eyes you have!_

"I didn't expect to be here." I whisper as he sits beside me, studying me.

_The better to see you with, my dear._

"Sora." He sighs.

"Riku." I reply, perhaps merely for old time's sake, or maybe for his.

Riku reaches over and pulls me toward him. I'm covered in mud, but he doesn't care. He rubs his cheek against mine and wraps his fingers in my hair and whispers my name over and over. It's as if he's putting a spell on me – which is a possibility, because although I know I should pull away, I find myself pushing against him, wrapping my arms about his waist as he wraps his about mine.

_My, what strong, warm arms you have!_

In a way, I think I need this.

_The better to hold you with, my dear._

"Sora, tell me you love me," he whispers, breath tickling my neck, where he has buried his face.

"I can't," I say.

"Then tell me you don't."

"I can't."

Riku groans and falls forward, pushing me back into the mud. He still holds me, and I still hold him. He looks down at me with fairy-tale eyes and smiles sadly.

_My, what soft lips you have!_

And that's it. I know now, that no matter what happens here on the edge of the enchanted forest, when I get back to the house I stopped calling home long ago, I will pack my things, and I will leave.

_The better to kiss you with, my dear._


	3. Part Three: True Love Kiss

**Author's Note**: Here it is - the third, and second-to-last, installment of _Fairy Tale Ending_. Another character pops up in this one – Leon. However, as a warning, I call him Squall in this. I like that name better, and therefore will use it when I cannot find a reason for Squall to have changed his name to Leon; which I couldn't here, so he's Squall. Also, _please_ do not review this story asking me to update Face. I've gotten two such reviews within not even one month and it's really quite annoying. I will update when I can manage. I'd also like to mention that this switches from Riku's point of view to Sora's and then back again. I'll be sure to include some sort of divider to make that a little clearer. And with that I end my ranting and continue to the actual story.

**Disclaimer**: I lied. This isn't the story - it's the disclaimer. Anywho, I still don't own Kingdom Hearts.

Part Three: _True Love Kiss_

As I dreamt of warmth and smiling blue eyes, he slipped away like a princess at midnight. What he left behind is more fragile than a glass slipper, but with time it will fade and disappear. To tell the truth, I'd prefer the slipper – some way of getting back to him.

It's been almost six weeks since Sora left. We fell asleep in each other's arms, at the edge of a woods enchanted by memories. When I woke, he was gone. I still haven't gotten used to the utter silence of an empty house, and I've fallen into the habit of having the stereo or TV on at all times. I don't turn off the lights anymore. I can't stand the sound of him not being there, and, truth be told, I'm afraid of the dark now.

I still don't know where he is. I haven't spoken to him or even passed him on the street since that night.

I called his mother. She only said he wasn't there. She wouldn't tell me if "he's not here" meant at the moment or at all. I won't call again. That night was goodbye. I didn't know it at the time, but I do now. Sora is gone now, and he won't come back, no matter how much I need him to, no matter how many sleepless nights I spend thinking about him and convincing myself that those are not tears rolling down my cheeks.

Anya calls me sometimes.

"How are you?" she'll ask.

I never reply.

"Have you found the light?" she asked once.

"No, I've lost it," was my answer.

I've gone back to hating her. If some part of me wasn't still clinging to the hope that it will be Sora on the other end, I wouldn't answer the phone at all. On days when I don't have classes, I rarely even leave my bed.

It's pathetic, I know, but I can't help it. I can't remember a time when Sora wasn't there for me. When I was five and my mother died, he woke up his mother at three in the morning after I called him in tears, and he himself cried until his mother agreed to rush him to the hospital to see me. When I was six and my father started dating Anya, he was the one who walked a mile, at five years old, so I didn't have to meet her alone. And when I was sixteen and my father finally decided to marry the wretch, Sora was the one who, while on vacation, took a four-hour, long-distance phone call to listen to me rant about Anya and paid for it with his own money.

And now he was gone. Six weeks and not even so much as a glimpse of him walking down the street. Not a flash of cerulean eyes, not a stray lock of cinnamon hair. Nothing. Just me, and this dull ache in my chest that makes it hard to breathe, and my rumpled sheets, and growling stomach.

I glance down at my abdomen, placing a hand over it soothingly. I eat only when my stomach yells at me to, waiting until it churns almost painfully, gurgling annoyingly. Up until that point, I'm nowhere near hungry enough for food to actually appeal to me.

Throwing away my blankets, I sigh and fight against the comforting gravity of my bed. My entire body feels heavy, too heavy for the proud strut I used to move with. I could afford being arrogant back then, because I had Sora, and if Sora – kind, pure, adorable, loving, perfect Sora – kept me around, there must have been something good that he saw in me. And if he loved me, thought me worthy of his affections, there must have been something great.

But Sora left me. I no longer have the confidence I used to. I barely even brush my hair these days. If Sora knew that, he'd ask what I'd done with the real Riku. But he doesn't know, and he won't ever know, because Sora is gone.

I open the door to the fridge, peering inside to search for something somewhat appetizing. Even with my stomach growling like a hungry wolf, I still find food unappealing. It doesn't surprise me. Depression does that, and even when Sora was still with me, I only ate when he and his bottomless pit of a stomach reminded me that food was a good thing.

I laugh softly at the countless memories of Sora shoving food into that giant mouth of his that filter swiftly through my mind before the laugh fades and I stop the memories. I only laugh when I remember him now, and even then I can tell that it's hollow and maybe even a little forced.

The phone rings and I jump to answer it. I always do, because I refuse to give up hope and accept the fact that Sora won't call.

"Hello?" I say, voice cracking. I haven't spoken in a few days. I stopped answering with 'Sora?' a while ago. I can't stand saying his name anymore.

"You sound like shit."

I sigh at the sound of that voice. I haven't heard it in a while. I'm relieved, he is one of the few people who can comfort me now, but I am disappointed too. He is not Sora.

"I feel like shit," I reply in a crackling whisper. My throat feels raw and the tick of tongue against teeth is foreign to me now.

"I'd figured you would." It doesn't leak through into his voice like my emotions have been lately, but I can tell that Squall is worried. He doesn't like to show it, but he always worries about me.

"Yeah," I press up against the wall and slide down it, resting against the cool tile floor. My stomach growls impatiently and I place my hand on it, as if this action will quiet it.

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

I try to think of something, anything, but the silence from the other end and the silence surrounding me, creeping through the air and curling its vicious fingers about me, is distracting. It's cold, and even under this half-sleeping spell, I shiver.

"Just talk," I answer. Now I am glad for the unpracticed sound of my voice – it hides the fact that I am about to cry. "It's too quiet." My stomach rumbles again, as if to emphasize my statement.

"When was the last time you ate?" Squall asks, as if he'd heard my stomach's complaint, which really wouldn't surprise me. I try to think of the answer to that question, but I can't remember anything but the warmth of Sora, the tinkling sound of his bright laughter, and the happy shine of his eyes. He called mine fairy-tale eyes, but he had them too. I never told him, because those were his words for me, not the other way around. I never told him, and now I never will.

"That's what I thought," Squall says with a sigh. "I'm coming over."

My eyes widen slightly. I don't want Squall to come. "No! Don't worry about it." I don't want Squall to see me looking so pathetic – I'd like at least someone to retain that proud, meticulously groomed image of the person I was before this spell was placed on me.

"Whatever," Squall says before hanging up.

I hate when he says that. I really, really hate it. It's so vague and indifferent, so now I don't know whether or not he'll show up. I assume he won't, he doesn't like to bother people. If you tell him not to come make sure you don't die of starvation, he won't.

I have neither the energy nor the desire to move now, so I slump forward to lie on the kitchen floor, pressing my cheek against the tile. I cant ell that I look like some junkie just off his high, and that's what I feel like. The best thing in my life has been taken away from me, and all I can do is sit around, staring off into space and wishing I could have him back, waiting for the kiss that will break the spell.

The doorbell rings and I curse under my breath. I guess I was wrong to assume that Squall would leave me alone. I sigh and pull myself to my feet. My head spins a little – I must have gotten up too quickly. I reach a hand out to grab at the wall and steady myself before I trudge to the door and pull it open.

Squall towers over me, a bit of a feat since I'm somewhat tall myself, and peers at me with storm-cloud eyes. I look up at him, suddenly aware that my hair is tangled and my pajama pants are wrinkled and I'm lacking a shirt. I can't think of anything to say. 'Hey' is too casual; my voice isn't ready for casual yet. 'Come in' would imply that I want him to do just that, and I don't. Before I can speak, Squall pushes the door open further and steps inside.

"You look awful," he observes worriedly. I think he may know my grooming habits better than even Sora.

"Like I said, I _feel_ awful."

"You sound even worse in person."

Hanging my head, I shut the door. "I haven't spoken in a while," I admit, chewing on my lower lip.

Squall raises an eyebrow at me before walking by into the kitchen. "Go get cleaned up and I'll throw something together for you," he says as he passes me, placing a hand on the top of my head briefly. It's the first time I've been touched since Sora left me, and it sends shivers down my spine as the warmth of it lingers.

I pad slowly down the hall, more awake now than I have been in the past six weeks, but still trapped, still waiting for my kiss. I can't focus my thoughts on anything except the fact that I feel absolutely disgusting with my tangled hair, and my wrinkled, dirty pajamas and my lack of shirt – which I hadn't noticed until a few minutes ago.

Entering the bathroom, I push my hand past the shower curtain and turn on the water, as hot as it can go. I strip quickly and hop into the shower. I've felt so cold ever since Sora left. The water streams over me and immediately I can see how dirty I was. I waste no time in grabbing the soap and scrubbing furiously, though I'm not sure if I'm trying to wash away the grime or something else.

I just don't want to sleep anymore. I want my prince charming to come, I want that true love kiss, I want the happily ever after. But my prince charming rode off into the sunset without me, so there will be no true love kiss, and there will be no happy ending. Sora is my happily ever after, and Sora is gone.

Sora is gone. Sora is gone. Sora is _gone. . ._

And so am I.

My knees feel weak, and I crumple, sitting in the centimeter of water that has gathered in the tub. The water is slowly losing heat as I sit here, hair plastered to my face, almost crying. Almost crying, but not quite. I actually haven't cried in a while, but I've come awfully close quite often.

I breathe in deeply a few times, collecting myself, before reaching up to turn off the now cold water. Closing my eyes, I suck in one last breath and stand slowly to stumble out of the shower. Cold air hits my damp body harshly and I shiver and hurriedly wrap a towel around myself, rushing to my room and dressing rapidly. For now, I take care in what I wear, because I feel like I should make up for my haggard appearance earlier. Oddly enough, Squall has always had that effect on me. I'm not sure why, but his cold demeanor and stormy gaze make me want to try and elicit some sort of reaction from him.

I concentrate on the dull thud of my footsteps as I move tot eh kitchen where Squall looks up from a cup of coffee to raise an eyebrow at me.

"There's absolutely nothing to eat in this place," he grumbles.

"Yeah," I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck and glancing down, "Sora usually does the shopping," I whisper.

Squall is silent and I hate that I said 'Sora does' rather than 'Sora did'.

"Let's go."

"Huh?" I mumble.

"There's no food here and you have to eat. We're going out," Squall says gruffly, pushing me gently towards the door. His touch is searing and I cringe, but I can't help but notice that I like being touched again, and am disappointed when Squall moves his hand away.

* * *

I haven't been in this area for six weeks. I've kind of been avoiding it since I left Riku. I don't want to run into him. I'm confused and I just need some time away from him to sort things out. Sometimes I think I'm close, and things don't look so good for Riku then, but then I'll think about him and it'll start all over again.

Most times I decide that I'm just used to having him around and I need time to adjust to his absence. There's still doubt though, and I refuse to stop thinking about it until I reach a solid confusion.

Everything here looks only semi-familiar, only half real. Actually, that's how everything, everywhere has seemed for the past six weeks. It's all so different and I know it's all because of Riku. I'd been with him my entire life after all; things were bound to be weird after such a drastic change. You don't just continue life as it was after leaving your best friend since you can remember, and the only person you've ever loved – that's not how it works. Plus, there's the fact that I may still love him.

Well, I do love him, but not in the same way as I once did. Or maybe it is in the same way.

Or maybe it isn't.

I sigh heavily, head drooping forward to stare at my feet as if they were suddenly actually worth looking at. I watch attentively as they smack heavily against the sidewalk. I feel so lost. I just want to figure everything out and get this all over with. If it turns out I do still love Riku, which it very well might, then it's best for us both if I figure this out quickly.

But if I do still love him, will I go back to him? Do I have the right to go back and apologize and ask him to keep loving me? If I do ask, who's to say he will? Who's to say he won't just decide to never forgive me and turn me away?

The door to the restaurant just ahead opens, bells bouncing and jingling happily. Glancing up I catch a glimmer of silver hair. My heart leaps and twists. My stomach churns and my breath falters as a pang of longing shudders through my frame. And before I can stop myself, I call out.

"Riku?" I say, swallowing hard and blushing. My heart is racing. So now I know. Now I know that I was stupid and yes, I do still love Riku.

I love him and there is no doubt about that anymore.

He stops, and I notice that he is not alone. Turning slowly, he furrows his brows. He's pale, paler than he was before, and he looks sick, but somehow he looks more beautiful now than he ever has before.

"Sora?" he asks. His voice is void of emotion and his eyes are too. This is really disarming. I've always been able to read his emotions because of his fairy tale eyes, but now those eyes are gone, and I hope that fairy tale eyes and fairy tale endings don't go hand in hand.

Riku turns to his companion, a tall brunette male, and looks up at him, whispering something. After a moment they both turn and I recognize the brunette. It's Squall, and now I'm terrified. I'd always felt threatened by him. He's gorgeous, and he and Riku were really close, and maybe it was just me being paranoid, but I always thought that Squall had a thing for Riku.

And now they were walking out of a restaurant together and Riku was standing too close to Squall for my liking.

"Hey," I say meekly as they walk towards me.

"Hey," he replies, and Squall nods his head in my direction as greeting.

We stand in silence now as I search Riku's eyes for some sort of reaction.

"How have you been?" I ask.

"Good," Riku replies, glancing pointedly at Squall. I can't read his eyes and so I can't tell if the glance was identifying Squall as his new lover or if it had a completely different meaning.

"You?" he continues.

"Okay," I say. "I. . .uh. . .I should go now." I murmur after another moment of awkward silence. If Riku is with Squall now, which it certainly looks like, I don't want to be here anymore. "It was good to see you again," I whisper, refusing to look him in the eye.

"Yeah. Yeah, same here," he says, moving closer to Squall. I can almost swear his voice cracked, but I'm not sure. Aside from this possible crack, his statement had seemed cold and insincere.

I look up at him, attempting to convey my feelings to him. He needs to know that I do still love him, even if he is with Squall now. But my mouth isn't working, and Riku won't see what I want him to see, because he's walking away.

So I turn and try to keep from sobbing, and I walk away too.

* * *

I hate silence more now than I ever have before. It seems to be screaming out at me, mocking me with how un-Sora it is. I'd thought that seeing him again would help, but it's just made things so much worse. And now I'm pacing the living room, trying to ignore the space on the couch where this all began. I wring my hands and pace, pulling in short, uneven breaths. I suddenly feel dizzy, so I sit on the couch, trying to regulate my breathing. Slumping forward I rest my head on my knees and sigh. Tears are welling up, and I blink frantically to keep from crying.

Sora. I'd finally seen him again. I'd almost bolted when I heard him call my name, but instead I froze. I even had to ask Squall what to do. He'd told me to talk to Sora, so I did. But I'd been terrified so I'd stood too close to the warmth and comforting strength of Squall. I know what it looked like – walking out of a restaurant with him, standing too close to him, like a child hiding behind his mother's skirts. To Sora it had seemed like Squall and I were _together_. How could it not have?

Sora thought I was dating Squall.

All hope is gone now. If Sora did still love me he wouldn't come back to me after seeing me with someone else.

When you lose hope it's hard to hold back tears.

Squall walks into the room with a cup of tea he'd made me. I wipe quickly at my eyes as he sits next to me silently.

I hate silence, though right now it's because I know Squall can hear me sniffling. I never even cried in front of Sora, except for when my mother died, and again that day six weeks ago, here on this couch. But that time doesn't count – Sora doesn't know I was crying then.

And he never will. He'll never know just how much he hurt me, just how much I miss him, how much I need him to come back to me. He thinks I've moved on, when the truth is I won't, not for a long time.

I try to stifle a sob, but only half succeed, and I know that Squall has definitely heard me.

"Are you crying?" he asks, sounding almost surprised.

I don't care anymore.

"Yes," I whisper, wiping my tears away. Squall is silent as I sob, and he reaches over and pulls me towards him. I clutch the fabric of his shirt in my hands and bury my face in the crook of his neck as he wraps his arms around me. Squall is warm and strong, and I can't help but be comforted by this.

He shushes me softly, stroking my hair and occasionally whispering soft comforts. My shoulders are shaking, but only slightly, and I have a feeling that I'd be trembling much more if he weren't holding me so tightly.

My tears have run dry but I find myself unable to pull away from Squall. He's so warm, and I've been so cold ever since Sora left. So cold, and I've finally found some sort of warmth. I look up at him and smile a small smile.

"Thanks," I whisper.

Squall meets my gaze and for some reason I tighten my grip on his shirt. He cups my chin and tilts my face towards his.

And then he kisses me. Or maybe I kissed him. I don't know, I can't tell which it was, but his lips are soft and warm, and I'm suddenly filled with energy after weeks of sleeping. Squall runs his tongue along my lower lip and I part my lips willingly, though part of me doesn't want this to happen. The rest of me could really care less right now. Squall is warm and I need warmth – I need so much warmth right now.

And I like this. I like how it feels to be held, not holding, to be kissed, not kissing. I'm surrounded by warmth and I love it.

Squall pushes me back onto the couch and I cling to him, unwilling to let this new sensation slip away. The kiss was not the true love kiss I've been searching for, but it woke me up anyway. And Squall is not my prince charming, but that really doesn't matter anymore.


	4. Part Final: Ever After

**Author's Note:** Here it is. The end of Fairy Tale Ending is here, although there will be a companion piece coming out sometime soon, called "And So It Goes". It's been quite a ride with this one. This is probably my favorite fic I've ever written, and I love that so many of you were so touched by it! It's somewhat based on my own experiences, although I took some creative liberties, of course. So it's been pretty emotional writing this and relieving it. (P.S. Just to stop the pitying "Oh you poor thing!" reviews that may come of this, I was totally Sora, not Riku. So it's all my fault. Gross.) Anyway, thank you to everyone who read/reviewed this, and please check out "And So It Goes" when that comes along.

**Disclaimer:** Me no own Kingdom Hearts.

Part Final: _Ever After_

Never before has my pillow been so soft – too soft. It's not warm and solid like the body I'm wishing it would somehow become. It doesn't have strong, comforting arms to wrap around me. It has no mouth with which to whisper soothingly or press gentle kisses on my lips. There is no heart beating steadily beneath my straining ear, and it is not a broad chest, well muscled and pale skinned, that I'm resting my head on. It's just a pillow, a soft, lifeless pillow.

But I can't stop clinging to it. I need _something_ to cling to right now. I just wish it would cling back. I wish it were a slender, lean body with a smiling face and fairy tale eyes. I wish it were Riku, with his cocky smirk and filigree hair.

That wouldn't help me though. If Riku were hear, he would not be holding me, smiling at me and whispering promises that everything would be all right. He doesn't do that anymore. Riku doesn't hold, instead he is now held. He is the one wrapped in strong arms, resting hid head on a broad chest, sighing contently as warmth, Squall's warmth, seeps into him.

He smiles for Squall, his eyes light up when Squall walks into the room Squall takes over his thoughts. Squall holds him. Squall kisses him. He stares at Squall, he begs Squall, pleads with him, squirming under Squall's roaming hands. He. . .and Squall. . . they. . .

"Sora" is no longer in his thoughts. He doesn't care about me. He's forgotten me – and I'd just begun to remember just how much I care for him, how much I need him.

I sigh and bury my face in my pillow as my mother knocks on my door. I don't want to be bothered, so I don't answer. If I stay silent and don't move, maybe I'll pass under her radar. Mothers _are_ kind of like T-Rexes after all.

"Sora, honey," she trills. She always sounds happy, but I can hear the note of worry in her cheery song.

"C'mon honey. Stop moping. You've been doing nothing but for almost a month!"

I'm still silent. I want to mope. Besides, I don't think I'm currently physically capable of doing anything else.

"I know you're upset because Riku's snogging Squall -"

God, why does she always have to be so blunt!

"But, Sora, who would he be snogging if you hadn't run away from him?"

I freeze. I try to convince myself that she's wrong, that Riku wouldn't have stayed with me much longer anyway, that he would've run off with Squall sooner or later. But I know it's not true.

"See, honey?" my mom murmurs after a few moments of silence on my part. "It really is all your fault. You have no right to mope. Riku is the one who should mope, and he did. But now he's happy, and you should be happy for him."

She's right. It is all my fault. I have no right to feel sorry for myself. Riku was upset – I hurt him – but now he's not and because I love him I should be happy just because _he's_ happy.

But I'm not.

And anyway, if he's happy, truly happy, then he lied to me. All those times he's told me he didn't know what he'd do without me, that he was nothing without me, that he _couldn't_ be happy if we weren't together – they were all lies, every single one of them. And he'd said he couldn't lie to me, which was obviously a lie as well. If he'd lied to me all those times, what else could he have lied to me about?

And. . .God, what could he have _not_ lied to me about? What details could he have so conveniently left out of our conversations?

What if he and Squall had been seeing each other all along?

I furrow my brows and scramble out of bed, stomping towards the door to throw it open, almost stomping towards the door to throw it open, almost hitting my mother. Halfway through my angry march down the hall, she calls me.

"Sora," she says softly, almost reprovingly.

I stop to hear what she has to say, though I doubt I'll actually listen to it.

"You know, sweetie, I think _you're_ the one who lied to _him_."

Again, I freeze. Mom has the strangest way of knowing exactly what I'm thinking at all times, sometimes she knows even before I do.

"When did I ever lie to him?" I say shakily.

"When you left him. When you told him you didn't love him."

I think there's some unspoken law of nature against mothers being wrong, especially mine. She always knows everything – how I feel, what I'm thinking, how I'll react to. . .

Pouting, I glare up at her from under my bangs.

"I hate you," I mutter. I should have known she was baiting me all along. Of course she'd try and get me to apologize to Riku – she loves him just about as much as I do.

"You're doing it anyway," she says with a smirk. It's not an order, it's just a statement.

"Yeah," I admit, lowering my eyes.

"Good boy," she croons, as if I were a dog, as she ruffles my hair.

"After all, the first step towards making up is an apology. And you know what they say about make-up sex."

"Mooo-ooom!" I cry. No matter how many times she's made inappropriate remarks before, and no matter how times she will do it again, I will never, ever, be able to find it any less emotionally scarring.

"Oh hush up and hurry up! It's not everyday you find your prince charming!" she squeaks, pushing me down the hall and towards the door.

"Yeah, I know," I grumble, swatting her hands away.

"Good luck sweet princess!" Mom cries with a cackling laugh and a wink as I pull on a jacket to guard against the rain I can now hear pounding against the roof. I shoot her a glare before slipping out the door, making a point of slamming it shut behind me.

Pulling my hood up, I begin making my way to the house Riku and I once called home, and, hopefully, would soon be known as home once again.

My steps become hesitant. Does Squall live there now?

The question bounces around in my mind, stirring up thoughts that topple the hopes that were previously the majority of my thoughts. What if Squall does live there now, and I just showed up on what was once my doorstop but was now his doorstep? What would I do then? I couldn't exactly ring the doorbell and say, "Hey! It's me! You know, the douche bag who thought he didn't love you so he broke your heart? Yeah, well, guess what! Turns out I do love you after all, so you should totally dump your much more attractive and sensible new boyfriend and take me back, okay? Oh, hey Squall! What's up?"

No. That wouldn't work at all.

Shaking my head, I sigh and quicken my pace. What am I worrying about? When I'd seen Riku and Squall there had been some level of awkwardness between them. At first I'd thought it was because of the awkward situation, but now, thinking back, could it have been the slight discomfort of a new relationship? The thin sheet of awkward that stands between two people who want to hold hands or rest heads on shoulders, but despite having some form of permission, refrain from doing so just because it's so new?

Pouting resolutely, I decide that that's exactly what it was and that, no, Squall couldn't possible love there because his relationship with Riku is too fresh for such things.

And yet, as Riku's house, that was once our home, and is not Squall's, I hope, comes into view I cannot stop the nervous gasp for breath or the wild flutter of heartbeats. Even if my assumption is correct, I still have to deal with Riku himself. He very well could just send me on my way. He could just stare at me blankly for a moment, and then laugh and tell me that I'm too late because he's found his prince charming, and it's not me, and he's found his happily ever after and I am not part of it.

But, then again. . .

Well, the only way to really know what he will do is to tell him and wait for his reaction. If I never tell him, I'll never know. I could never tell him and spend the rest of my life wondering what would have happened, sitting alone when I could be with him.

Frowning, I walk up the steps to the door, where the doormat smiles at me, shouting a mocking "Welcome!" as I ring the doorbell. I hear footsteps from within, and as the move closer I swallow my fear, ready to confront Riku and accept his reaction, whatever it may be.

As the door swings slowly open, I hold my breath, briefly contemplating running, and all I can picture now is Riku narrowing his eyes at me and slamming the door shut, not even giving me a chance to at least apologize.

But it is not Riku at the door, and the air comes rushing out of my lungs in a frustrated and somewhat woeful sigh.

Squall stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame, wearing nothing but a pair of navy boxers with strange yellow birds on them. I suddenly realize how early it is and wonder if I woke him after a night of. . .little sleep. He furrows his brows In confusion and brushes a few stray hairs out of his face. He remains silent and I shift my weight from foot to foot, eyes cast downward.

"Is, uh. . .is Riku there?" I ask, wavering. I'd convinced myself that Squall wouldn't be here – I'm not prepared to face him.

"No," he says, grey eyes boring into me as I chew my lower lip nervously.

"He's not home right now."

My heart sinks. Riku's not here? Where could he be? It's Thursday, he doesn't have class, and there's no way he's with family. But wait, that day, before I left him, hadn't he said something about speaking with Anya?

Well, no matter what, Riku isn't home.

He isn't home. Squall had said that Riku wasn't home. Home. That means he lives here. I. . .

I'm too late. I've missed my happily ever after, my fairy tale ending.

"I'll tell him you came," Squall says, starting to close the door.

'Wait!" I cry, sniffling and holding back tears.

"No. . .no don't tell him, please, but, uh. . ." I pause, mentally fumbling for words. "How. . .how is he?"

I sound pathetic, but I need to know, chances are I will never see him again and will always wonder just how much I hurt him, and always hate myself for it.

"Better," Squall answers, fixing me with a cold, analytical stare.

"He's happy then?" I ask softly, somewhat hopeful that he is, somewhat fearful of it. I want him to have his happily ever after, but I want it to be my happily ever after too.

Squall eyes me somewhat suspiciously as I stifle a sob just enough so that it is instead a barely audible whimper, and I hang my head to hide the tears now rolling down my cheeks.

He is silent and after a few moments I wonder why he has not answered me yet. Peeking up from under my bangs I see that he is no longer looking at me with those cold, stone grey eyes. I turn to follow his gaze.

There, standing at the edge of the driveway, is Riku.

He's staring at me with a puzzled expression, his eyes occasionally flitting towards Squall.

I fight to keep a goofy, lopsided grin from stretching across my face, and wipe the tears from my eyes.

"R-Riku," I whisper.

"Sora?" he asks, voice cracking slightly.

I stare at him a moment, not sure that I'll ever be quite done with looking at him and remember the way he used to smile when we whispered each other's names.

"Riku!" I yell, running towards him as I begin to cry again. I slam into him, wrapping my arms about his waist as we fall to the wet, cold ground and bury my face in the crook of his neck.

"Riku," I whisper, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, so sorry. So, so, so sorry. I'll never leave you again. Never. Never, never, never, never, never. Never. I promise. I. . .I love you."

Riku runs his hands through my hair, shushing me softly, before cupping my chin and raising my face to gaze into my eyes. They're back, his fairy tale eyes, and they're shining happily, more so than ever before. I don't need to hear his words; I can see them in his fairy tale eyes. But I'm hoping he'll say them anyway.

"I love you too, Sora," he murmurs before softly pressing his lips to my own.

Once upon a time there were two princes who fell deeply in love. They were torn apart by a big bad wolf, and reunited with a true love kiss.

And they lived happily ever after.


End file.
